


Blood, Leather Jackets, and The NYPD

by eb18490



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-03-11 05:59:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13518009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eb18490/pseuds/eb18490
Summary: When Aurora Blake is murdered, Marcus Kane’s police force is tasked with the seemingly impossible mission of finding her killer. There are new suspects at every turn, and some people just aren’t willing to talk. People will turn against each other and life threatening secrets will be revealed. It’s a homicide like no one’s ever seen, and both the murderer and the detectives want it kept a secret. No one is going to play fairly. No one is safe, not even the police themselves.Who killed Aurora Blake?





	1. Chapter 1

“Miss Blake, I’m going to need to talk to you outside.” The man says, showing her his police force badge.

“You’re kidding me, right? I tell them to leave me alone for one night and they manage to get me in trouble.” The young woman shakes her head, untying her apron and slamming it onto the counter.

1952, New York City. An apartment’s landlady calls the police department at 3:27 pm, reporting the murder of Aurora Blake, one of her tenants. Chief of the station, Marcus Kane, sends his force, along with his best detective: Lincoln Woods. Tall, quite attractive, military veteran, although hiding quite a few secrets. After talking with the quite shaken landlady, Woods heads to talk to the dead woman’s daughter. He’s not quite sure where she is, but he uses the landlady’s tip of the diner practically across the street.

The bell above the door to the diner chimes quickly, prompting the hostess to look up from organizing the menus.

“Can I help you?” She asks in a sultry voice, coming over with a menu in hand.

He’s got no time for pleasantries. “You know an Octavia Blake?” He asks in a gruff voice, quite visibly making the lady jump.

“She’s busy in the back.” The lady tells him. “You’re gonna have to wait.”

Woods leans in. He’s had to deal with this stuff before. “Listen, lady. I don’t have time for games.” He pulls his badge out of his pocket, trying to resist the urge to shove it in her face. “Get me the lady, okay?”

The woman raises her eyebrows. “I’m going.”

She turns on her heel, walking to the back, in the direction of the kitchens. Woods can hear her mumbling a couple of swears under her breath as she leaves.

Maybe he’s impatient, but it takes way too long for the lady to come back out to him. She eventually does come back, a slightly taller woman behind her. One of the first thoughts that comes to the front of his head is that she’s pretty attractive, and that she seems like the kind of woman who doesn’t like to make things easy for the cops.

Woods waves the hostess away with his hand and she huffs, walking away to clear a couple of tables.

“Miss Blake, I’m going to need to talk to you outside.” The man says, showing her his police force badge.

“You’re kidding me, right? I tell them to leave me alone for one night and they manage to get me in trouble.” The young woman shakes her head, untying her apron and slamming it onto the counter.

Surprisingly she complies, stepping out into the sun. Woods starts mentally noting everything about this woman- slight body movements could be crucial to distinguish the truth. He also notices that her long brown hair catches the light and reflects back the color of copper.

“So. Who are you, and what do you want?” The woman asks angrily. “I’m losing dough by the second, standing out here.”

“Detective Woods. I work with the NYPD-“

“Alright, let’s skip the pleasantries.”

Octavia Blake sure knows what she’s doing. At nineteen years old she’s already worked her way up the ranks of one of the most prestigious gangs in the city, Skaikru. And it didn’t hurt either that her grandfather was the leader back in the twenties, at the height of the Mafia. What could she say, there was just a streak in the family. In the daytime she works at the Ark, a crap diner barely a block away from her and her mother’s tiny apartment.

Octavia hates the police. Completely the opposite of her. Always trying to destroy her work. But right now, she really has to get back to work if she wants to make enough for rent this month.

“What brings you here on this fine afternoon?” She sneers at the detective.

“You’re probably going to want to sit down for this.” Woods suggests.

Hah. “I’ve delt with what will probably be worse.” She crosses her arms. These heels are killing her feet right now. She already has blisters on top of her blisters.

“There’s been a murder-“

“If you think I did it-“

“Your mother’s dead.”

She recoils, as if he’s just punched her in the face.

“What do you mean she’s dead? I saw her this morning on my way to work.”

“Your mother is Aurora Blake?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry, but she’s been murdered.”

Blake starts shaking slightly, yet no tears were near her eyes.

“Funny. I always thought I’d be the one to keel over first. And… I guess I’m not surprised she’s been murdered.” She shrugged.

Woods raises his eyebrows. “Why don’t we go down to the station. I’ve got to ask you a few questions.”

“You gonna cuff me?” Blake raises her hands. “It’s okay, I know the drill. Been here before.”

“Not necessary.” Woods says, taking her upper arm in his hand. “This will do.”

The walk to the police station is not long, just boring as it is done in silence on the sidewalk, the occasional passerby glancing quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys! Here's chapter two! Thanks for reading, and tell me what you think!

_ The walk to the police station is not long, just boring as it is done in silence on the sidewalk, the occasional passerby glancing quickly. _

“Octavia Blake.” Woods announces to the chief as they enter the station. Chief Kane looks up from a stack of paper work. Marcus Kane: head police chief of the NYPD for the last 10 years. The man, late forties, sits at a desk that looks like it has not been cleaned since he stepped foot in the police department. Stacks of paper and files are piled high, one at the bottom even reading 1933. The desk was on the fast track to becoming the archive of unsolved cases for the whole NYPD.

Kane nods to Woods, watching them carefully as they make their way to Woods' desk in the back.

Woods lets go of the girl’s arm, motioning to the hard wooden chair.

“So.” He says, taking his coat off and draping it on his chair before sitting down and pulling out a notepad, “Who might your mother have seen today?”

Octavia thinks for a moment. “Me, definitely. My brother and his wife, also definitely, and probably a couple of her clients.”

Woods stops writing for a moment. “Clients?”

“Yeah. She sews a bit, you know, repairs clothes for people. Money’s always been kind of tight, so some of those clients may have been there for… other reasons.”

Octavia looks down at the floor. This isn’t something she discusses, ever.

“What about your brother and his wife?”

“Bellamy and Clarke were passing by. They have an apartment further uptown and they were heading out of state for the weekend. Clarke’s mother has a summer home far upstate.”

“Hm.”

“Bellamy wouldn’t- you don’t think he would- he’s always loved our mother.” Octavia leans in closer to the desk. This ordeal was going to break her. “If you so much as even consider my brother as the killer, so help me, I will kill you.”

Woods nods to himself, jotting down another note on his pad. Octavia looks over, but the notes are written in shorthand, and she never bothered to learn it, so trying to read what he wrote is actually pretty useless.

“Back at the diner you said something about not being surprised that she’d been murdered?” Woods asks.

“Well, yeah. We Blakes have always been in some trouble or something.” Octavia told him. “My grandfather was very good friends with Al Capone.” She smiled. “So, naturally, we Blakes gotta watch our heads.”

“You’re very proud of this?” Woods asked.

“You’d be proud too.” Octavia shrugs.

Woods leans in this time, a wide smile on his face. “My father knew Joe the Boss. You know him?”

“Yeah, but he can’t beat Al Capone.” Blake smirks. "You got a cigarette?”

Woods pulls a box out of his pocket, offering one to her.

Octavia holds it in between her fingers, spinning it in her hand, through her fingers, more and more quickly.

“You know, you don’t really seem all to sad that your mother’s dead.” Woods tells her.

“Don’t get me wrong, I loved my mother.” Octavia tells him. “But she and I never really got along. It could have been the fact that practically everyday until I moved out she told me she wished I’d never been born, but then again, it could have just been that we never got along. Besides, I got an alibi. I’ve been at work since eight. Call my job if you don’t believe me. Call whoever’s at the morgue. There’s no way she’s been dead since eight.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. Here's the third chapter! Enjoy!

_ "Besides, I got an alibi. I’ve been at work since eight. Call my job if you don’t believe me. Call whoever’s at the morgue. There’s no way she’s been dead since eight.” _

 

The morgue: a dark, desolate place. Windowless, cold. Full of bodies, with their glassy, empty eyes staring straight up at the plastered ceiling.  A group of doctors and scientists are crowded around the newest arrival: Aurora Blake.

Aurora Blake: tall, attractive woman in her mid forties. Brown hair, dark brown eyes, attractive nose, many features passed on to both of her children, but more visible in her daughter. Bullet hole through the center of her forehead, angled down towards the brain stem. No exit wound.

The team of doctors is led by Eric Jackson, top doctor in the morgue, early thirties. Taught by Clarke Griffin's parents, coincidentally. The Griffins were the best doctors in the state. Hell, the whole tri-state area.

"No exit wound, as you can probably tell." Jackson starts to talk, prompting the team of doctors crowded around him to start taking notes as their appointed photographer snapshots the victim, forever capturing her in all of her dead glory.

"I've concluded that the weapon was a .45 caliber ACP. Bullet is a .45 ACP cartridge, naturally. Or what we could find of it. Bullet shattered in the victim's skull."

Jackson points over to a small table in the corner. "Over there I have the recovered fragments of the bullet. Please, don't touch it until I've cleaned it off."

"How long has it been since the time of death?” A woman in the back asks. Doctor Tsing, a long time doctor, now expanding her horizons to the dead.

"Five hours at maximum. It's unclear how long it took for the victim to die after being shot, but other studies show that this type of wound, without an exit, could take within five minutes, depending on distance. Long distance range would give her probably double; if it was right at her head it would kill her instantly.” He tells her, trying to mask the fact that this woman makes him suspicious, but of what, he doesn’t know.

Jackson begins to pull off his double layer of surgical gloves, heading over to a trash can. "I'd need one of my assistants to sanitize the bullet and bring it to the lab. The rest of you, feel free to examine the body. Just please don't touch it. We don’t want any repeat incidents."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to let me know what you think of this story!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the next chapter! Things start to get a bit more interesting towards the end...

_ Jackson begins to pull off his double layer of surgical gloves, heading over to a trash can. "I'd need one of my assistants to sanitize the bullet and bring it to the lab. The rest of you, feel free to examine the body. Just please don't touch it. We don’t want any repeat incidents." _

 

The phone in the station rings, startling Octavia and pretty much everyone else in the office.

"NYPD." Kane answers the phone, a pencil hanging out of his mouth. He’s too tired for this; hasn’t gotten a full night of sleep in over a week. He’d be the first one in line to sign a petition to say that no one should ever have to function on two hours a night, ever. Besides, he can barely remember the last time he visited his mother. For her birthday? Or was it last Christmas?

Regardless, he listens to the person on the other line, mouthing "morgue" to Lincoln.

Lincoln nods, leaning back in his chair. Octavia does not see any of Kane’s indications, her chair still facing Lincoln. She's losing pay by the second, and she sighs in annoyance.

"Will do. Thanks." Kane says, hanging up the phone. He goes back to his desk, furiously scribbling notes on his papers. His job was going to be the death of him.

"I've been telling you to get a typewriter." Lincoln says, trying to joke, maybe lighten up the atmosphere. “It would be much faster."

"Shut up." Kane mumbles. "I don't have time for this.”

They both know this is true.

Just then the doors to the station swing open. A young woman enters, followed by two men, slightly older than her.

Monty; a promising detective. Smart, cunning, not too good at interrogations. Always plays the good cop, whether he can help it or not. More of an at-the-desk kind of guy. Murphy; ex gang member, quit and joined the detective force. Extremely rude, to most people at least. Even those on his good side often wondered when he’d wake up on the right side of the bed.

The young woman walks over to a desk near the window, tossing a paper bag onto it.

"These shoes damn near killed my feet." She complains. "But I got a lead on that car-explosion- disappearance case. They used some faulty wiring to make it explode."

Raven Reyes; twenty two, so far the only female detective in this branch of the NYPD. She dates Murphy and they have a weird connection, which surprisingly, comes in handy for several investigations. No one knew how they’d managed to make it work for so long, but they did, so that was that.

Murphy walks over to Lincoln's desk, leaning over on it. "So, who's the new girl?" He asks, smiling like a wolf leading his sheep to slaughter. He turns to Octavia. “What’d ya do? Kill someone?"

"Hah." Octavia says, sarcastically. "If only you knew what I do for a living besides the diner."

"What, did I piss you off?" Murphy sneers. "Besides, I don't wanna know. Probably something like a-“

Lincoln slams his hand down on the desk, making Murphy jump slightly. Octavia, however, remains stoic, like she’s done many of these intimidation scenes before.

“That’s enough. Now get the hell outta my interrogation."

Kane speaks next, running a tired hand through his hair. "I'll fill you three in on our case. For now I'm going to have to make some phone calls. Octavia, I'm going to need your brother's phone number."

"Can't I just go home?" The girl sighs. "My mother just died."

"It's probably better that you stay here and not drink yourself to death." Lincoln says.

"Aw, come on. I got a- you know, never mind."

"You're a suspect now, Miss Blake." Kane says. "And until you're proven innocent-"

"Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law." Murphy cuts him off with a smirk.

"Yes." Kane sighs, rubbing his forehead.

"So, what, I'm in jail until now?"

"Please, Miss Blake." Raven says, coming out of the back room. "We have your file, and damn, you could be in jail for at least a year and a half from your offenses."

"At least the ones you know about." Octavia mutters under her breath.

"What was that?" Reyes raises an eyebrow.

"Nothing.

"Miss Blake, you’re not leaving until you answer all of our questions.” Kane says, whispering something to Monty. He’s got to make sure Octavia has an alibi. They need her help, and they need to make sure she’s innocent. Although with a girl like this, it’s pretty hard to tell. Flipping between a nice young woman and an ill tempered python in a matter of seconds.

“Can I at least be the one to call my brother?” Octavia asks.

“Fine.” Kane says. “But we’re not turning this into a whole production. And I’m going to need to speak to him after you’re done.”

Octavia puts the numbers into the rotary, hearing the receiver pick up after three rings.

“Hi, Bell.”

She nods, acknowledging his response. “Listen, Bell… mom’s been murdered.”

Kane and the others can hear muffled shouting on the other end of the line. Woods, of all people, knows that this is not easy. But what would make it even worse would be for one of them to be the first ones to walk into the apartment and come face to face with their mother’s dead body.

"Yeah. Uh, you'd better get Clarke on the phone before you have an aneurism. You gotta come into the police station or something."

Octavia pulls away from the phone, handing it to Kane with a sigh.

"Yes, this is Chief Kane, NYPD. I'd like both you and your husband to come into the station to answer a few questions. Today or tomorrow would be preferable. Thank you ma'am."

Kane hangs up the phone. "Said they can't get back into the city until tomorrow afternoon. Raven, I need you and Murphy to go back to the apartment, try to find any evidence, fingerprints, anything. And take your badges, we don't need a repeat of last time. It’s still an active crime scene"

Reyes laughs reliving 'last time', while gathering her coat in her hands. She and Murphy head out of the police department relatively quickly.

Octavia is allowed to return home that night, with strict orders from Woods to be back at eight the next morning.

She turns the key in the lock, opening the door and seeing Harper, her roommate, on the couch.

"You're later than usual." Harper says, flipping through a magazine. "We have to be at the river in half an hour."

"You don't think I know that?" Octavia walks over to the kitchen sink, pouring herself a glass of whiskey that they had stashed in the cabinet.

"I thought you weren't drinking before meetings anymore." Harper points out. "Doesn't it make your hands shake?"

"Yeah." Octavia replies. "I'm not going tonight. You're gonna have to sub in for me."

"What?” Harper gawks in disbelief.

It was nothing like Octavia. She hadn’t missed a meeting ever in her three or so years of being the leader of Skaikru. She’d gone in with the flu, a recovering gunshot wound to the shoulder, and a serious concussion.

"My mom was murdered. They had me come in for questioning today and they need me in tomorrow to discuss some alibi and shit." Octavia pours another drink. "They probably want to know why I wasn't shaking more when I saw the body.”

“I’m sorry about your mother. But the bodies; you’re used to it." Harper offers.

"Exactly. I've even been behind ‘em sometimes. But those damn cops and detectives think that I should be bawling my eyes out and on the verge of a nervous breakdown."

"You need an alibi. Without it, you're toast."

"Oh, don't I know it. Luckily I was at the diner this morning."

She just needed to cool down, she tells herself. She pulls out her pocketknife, twisting it between her fingers. "You're going in my place tonight."

"I couldn't-" Harper objects.

It’s a great honor in Skaikru, to sub in for the leader.

“I want you to be my right hand man from now on. Just in case.”

Harper looks like she’s going to pass out on the floor.

"You know everything on the agenda today. Except the very last part, because that was supposed to be a surprise." Octavia grins, her smile looking slightly more twisted than before. The grin of a twisted mind, if you will. But Octavia Blake was far from crazy. Just maybe a bit too invested in her work. "It's going to have to hold until next time, though, because I gotta be there to see it."

Harper nods. "Okay."

"You'll be alright. You got Bryan and Miller with you."

Harper glances at the clock, standing up.

"You should fix up your jacket soon. Looks a little worse for wear." Octavia says.

"That's part of our look, right?" Harper smiles, heading for the door. “Oh, and by the way, check out that dress in the magazine. I’m thinking of buying it next weekend."

Octavia smiles to herself as the apartment empties, pouring a third, and certainly not her last, drink. Boy, was Harper gonna have a mess to clean up when she came home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave a kudos or a comment w/ a suggestion!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy and Clarke finally make an appearance. Kane needs some sleep, and Octavia's being very mysterious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like this chapter! I've been working really hard on this story, and I'm not even halfway through what I planned!  
> Feel free to leave a comment if you want, and thanks for reading!

_ Octavia smiles to herself as the apartment empties, pouring a third, and certainly not her last, drink. Boy, was Harper gonna have a mess to clean up when she came home. _

 

The sound of the phone ringing startles Octavia out of a deep sleep. Her head is pounding, an unfortunate side affect of being alive and human after drinking way too much whiskey.

"Whaddya want?" She answers sharply, the question ringing in her ears.

“Miss Blake, this is Chief Kane. We’d like you to head down to the station; you’re brother and his wife are here. And it’s also eight thirty.”

“Sorry. I’ll be right there.” "Shit.” She whispers to herself slightly embarrassed at the greeting.

The receiver is quickly slammed back into its cradle, making her wince at the sound.

She dresses and brushes her teeth, grateful that the taste of eight hour old whiskey was no longer stuck in her mouth.

She glances in the mirror quickly before heading out the door. She didn’t look too bad, the bags under her eyes were seemingly always there, and her face was slightly pale, but that was a side affect from a night of drinking. Besides, she was used to the feeling of being hungover.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door into the hallway, and began making her way to the station.

Maybe she’d call a cab, treat herself. Or maybe she’d walk; try to clear her head. 

But she’d probably sway on her feet, and have to take her shoes off halfway there, so the cab it was. 

Within minutes she hailed a taxi, trying to ignore the confused stares from the driver in the mirror. What did he think she was going to the station for? Some people in this city just had overactive imaginations.

At the station Woods sighs, wishing he had some actual backup. With Kane passed out in the back, it was up to him to try to comfort Mr. and Mrs. Blake. Clarke was in obvious distress, and Bellamy’s face was literally as white as a sheet.

“She’s going to be here soon, right?” Bellamy asked. “She’s okay, right?”

“Yes. I’m sure she’s just running late. Kane called earlier and she was awake.”

“That’s good, Bellamy.” Clarke whispered, holding her husband’s hand. “Please, calm down.”

“Calm down? Clarke, for all we know the killer could be following Octavia here!"

People. Lincoln usually kept his feelings bottled up, which was great for everyone else, and great for the punching bag later. On second thought, maybe his input wouldn’t be useful in this type of situation. Not everyone liked to punch things.

The door swung open, hitting the wall and revealing Octavia Blake.

“Sorry I’m late.” She tells them, her brother and his wife rushing over.

“I thought something happened to you, O.” Bellamy says.

“I’m fine, Bell. Don’t worry.”

Kane enters the room with the squeak of a door, sinking (although Woods would describe it more as melting) into his desk chair. “Thank you all for coming.”

“Of course.” Clarke nods, tapping her foot on the floor, over and over, the toe of her shoe making a gentle hollow sound on the tiled floor.

“Can you remember where you two were at around eight yesterday morning?” Kane prompts Lincoln to start taking notes.

“We were packing.” Bellamy tells him. “We left at around three, I think it was.”

“Why so late?”

“We visited his mother. Left around nine thirty because I had a headache.” Clarke says. “We went home and I took an aspirin and went to lie down, and I ended up falling asleep for a few hours.”

“Do you get headaches a lot?”

“In the last several months, yes. From stress. My job is very demanding."

“What time did you arrive at your destination?”

“I think it was near six.” Bellamy continues. “There was traffic on the roads in the city, but we cut through Jersey, so it took much less time than I had originally thought.”

“Do you normally go upstate?”

“Of course.” Clarke says. “My mother owns a summer home. It was my father’s before he passed away years ago. We try to go up there at least once a month.”

“Can I ask what you do for a living?”

“Of course. I’m an artist. Though most of my clients tend to think of me only as a sculptor.” Clarke says, laughing slightly. “They’ve been requesting so many busts lately."

“And I’m a professor.” Bellamy interjected. “I dabble in writing, as well.”

“Have you written any books?”

“Yes, actually. They’re not quite popular, but I’ve given several lectures at various universities around the country in the last few years."

After an hour or so, Kane seems to tire with his interrogation. “Thank you for your time, but I believe that is all of the questions I can ask you today.”

“Thank you.” Bellamy says, both him and Clarke shaking his and Wood’s’ hands. Bellamy and Clarke hug Octavia tightly, Octavia promising her brother she’d be safe.

As soon as the couple leaves the station, Octavia sighs in the uncomfortable wooden chair, deciding to stay behind for a moment.

“You two dragged me in for this?” She mutters.

“Kane, you should take the rest of the day off. Sinclair’s coming in in a couple minutes.” Raven walks in, patting the tired man on the shoulder.

“Alright.” The older man rubs his eyes, yawning behind his hands.

“And make sure to take the phone off the hook when you get home.”

“Sure.”

“Dropping the alarm clock in the toilet bowl also helps.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Raven, thank you.” Kane tells her, packing up his things in his briefcase, then picking up his jacket and hat.

“See ya, Kane.” Octavia mutters.

“You’d better go too, Blake.” He tells her. “You’re not going to be much use here the rest of the day, no offense.”

“None taken. It’s a pleasure to get out of your sight. Besides, I’m very late for work.”

That night, Octavia sits on the couch in her pajamas, flipping on the radio. There’s a great program on, one with interesting science fiction reads. She likes to listen to this kind of stuff, especially after coming home from work late, like today.

The doorbell buzzing startles her, and after a couple of seconds doesn’t stop ringing. God, it’s not like she can ignore it or anything. She can’t hear the radio over the noise.

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” She shouts. It better not be the landlord. She’d told the old woman time and time again that she’d have the money soon. God, that lady never listened.

“What?” She swigs open the door, eyes colliding with none other but Woods. Octavia jumps, startled.

“Did Kane send you?” She sighs, placing her hand over her heart, recovering from the scare. All she wanted was a leisurely night. And now there was a man at her doorstep, not the old landlady she’d been expecting.

“No. I just-“

“That’s great and all, but I’m not really looking for a Saturday night hookup.”

“Me neither.” Woods tells her, looking slightly embarrassed.

“Come on in, I guess.” Octavia motions to the couch, stepping back a bit to let Lincoln in. “What can I do for you on this wonderful Saturday night?"

“I was reading over your file at the station.” Woods decides to cut straight to the chase. “You’ve been in a lot of trouble."

The young woman sighs, smiling. “I remember the first time I’d ever gotten throw in a jail cell; I was twelve. The cop was a little harsh, made me stay in there until Bell could pick me up that night.”

“What about your mother?”

“Ah, she was never really around. At that time, I think she might have been waiting tables somewhere.”

“Why does it seem like you don’t really care about this whole investigation? Honestly, I don’t think you’ve got anything to do with it, but Kane’s suspicious. You’ve got enough on your record to write a book.”

“Meet me by the dock at the river tomorrow night at eleven. All will be explained.” She smiles.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lincoln is finally about to find out what Octavia is hiding...
> 
> (There's quite a bit of violence in this chapter)

_ “Meet me by the dock at the river tomorrow night at eleven. All will be explained.” She smiles. _

 

This is not what he’d like to be doing on a Sunday night. Any night, at that, but not on a weekend especially. Not his cup of tea. Besides, today was his day off, and he didn’t want to spend it getting mugged by the river.

He’s there slightly early, ten fifty four, but he walks over to the figure of a woman in all black.

“You came.” The woman turns, revealing Octavia.

“You really take the gang thing to the next level.” He tells her.

“You like what you see?” She grins, raising an eyebrow.

In truth, her outfit does look very nice on her, her leather jacket hanging just so and an unlit cigarette in between her lips. But he’s not going to say that. He’s here on strict business, not on pleasure.

“My roommate’s here, she’s just taking care of some things first.” Octavia tells him.

She’s actually kind of nervous, truth be told. She’s literally bringing a detective into her territory. The guy needs to be there all of ten seconds starting at eleven, and he’d have enough information to file an entire police report on every single person there. That’s not what she wanted. But then again, he’s a nice guy, and she can probably trust him.

“Hiya, lady.” A familiar voice says. Bryan.

“You made it.” She says, punching him lightly in the arm. “Unlike last time.”

He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “I got held up. Besides, you-“

“I get it. Shut up.”

“Alright, boss lady.” Bryan flicks her on the back of the head.

Woods clears his throat.

“This is Woods. My shadow for the night.” Octavia tells Bryan. “And it’s not like he’s going to go running to the cops or anything.”

“That’s what he wants you to think.” Bryan whispers to her, glaring at Lincoln.

Quickly, the space by the river begins to fill up, Harper standing in her place on Octavia’s left.

“So,” Octavia begins her speech. “Today marks the thirtieth year of Skaikru. Which, unfortunately, makes it the thirtieth year of Trikru, and the thirtieth year of the Mountain Men torturing us. But hell, we’re gonna celebrate, after a few announcements.

First, that son of a bitch we all know and love has gone missing, but I’ll find him soon enough.”

“I’ll bet ten bucks it’s the Mountain Men!” Someone in the back pipes up, slurring his words, promptly getting socked in the head by an older member of Skaikru.

“Drunk already." She lets out a quick laugh. “Someone make sure he doesn’t get any drinks tonight.

Second, my Bryan over here has taken the liberty of supplying us with the booze for the night, so let’s give him a quick round of applause.”

A cheer goes through the group of one hundred or so people, Bryan taking a mock bow.

“But one last thing before we drink. I’ve been meaning to do this for a week.”

She walks through the crowd until she finds the boy she’s looking for, a kid not much older than her, but still someone who should have been a loyal member of Skaikru.

She points to him so everyone can see. “This jackass right here thought it’d be funny to go bragging about the revenue from our last run. This jackass thought it’d be all sunshine and rainbows to go through Trikru territory practically wearing it on his arm, and then walks straight into the fucking Mountain, and tells none other than Cage Wallace. And then he walks back out, scot-free. So this is what we do to bastards like him.”

She puts him into a headlock, and even though he’s got more muscle than her, she holds him down relatively well. She flicks her pocketknife out of her back pocket, opening it, and pressing it to his neck. She can practically feel the murder in her eyes.

“This is gonna leave a scar.” She mocks, hearing him gasp for air.

“Please.” He gargles.

But she doesn’t give mercy. She’s always been straightforward.

“You know what we do to traitors?” She asks aloud.

She removes the knife from his neck, bringing it up to the left side of his jaw.

When she’s done there’s a thin cut from his chin to his ear. So thin that you’d have to be in his face to see it, but there. It’s the mark, the one that dictates the owner as a traitor. It’s meaning is universal to every gang in the state of New York.

“That’s thirty years of tradition right there.” She calls out, shoving him to the floor. “That’s what we do to traitors. Now, had he told them about some of our more secret things, he’d be getting away from us today with no head on his neck. Someone get him out of here.”

Two men come to drag him away. As quickly as it was taken out Octavia wipes her blade on her pant leg, flipping it shut and putting it back in her pocket.

“The rest of you, enjoy the booze.” She tells them, waving her hand to dismiss the group.

No one is shaken, carrying on like they had before the man had gotten dragged away.

“Alright, Woods, we’re going.” She grabs his elbow, steering him away from all the calamity at the dock.

By the time they’re three blocks away, they can still hear drunken laughter. Perhaps nearby tenants would chalk it up to the bar on the next corner.

“You’re the leader of Skaikru.” Woods says in disbelief.

They’d been trying to capture a leader for years, of either three gangs, but to no avail. And now, in the middle of the night, he was taking a leisurely stroll through the city with one. How much weirder could this night get?

“I am. Got it at sixteen when Bell realized he’d rather be married than run a gang.”

“You could be put on death row for everything they want Skaikru in for.”

“But you’re not gonna turn me in, judging by the sound of your voice. Why not?” He can sense her voice raising an octave, almost as if she was trying to persuade him to keep his mouth shut. Flirtation. One of the most common persuasion techniques.

There’s an uncomfortable silence, the only sound that of their boots on the cobblestoned back alleys of the city.

“I need you to help me solve this case.” Lincoln practically begs. "If you do, I’ll see what I can do about granting you some sort of immunity.”

Octavia pauses for a second, as if mulling it over.

“I’ll help. On one condition.”


	7. Chapter 7

_ “I’ll help. On one condition.” _

 

“Name it.”

“You help me find out why so many of my people are disappearing. This tattoo is a promise to my people that I will be the best leader I can possibly be,” She adjusts the collar of her jacket, giving him a glimpse of the tattoo on her shoulder. “And I feel like I’m failing."

Maybe this time she’d actually have a chance in finding out the truth. It’d actually driven members out, many of them afraid that they would be next.

“What do you mean, disappearing?” Woods glances at her like she has two heads.

“The guy I mentioned earlier. He’s missing. And this isn’t a one time occurrence either. See, thirty years ago my grandpa came to New York and rose up the ranks in mobster territory. He tried to unite two rival gangs, both who wanted the Mountain Men dead.”

“who exactly are the Mountain Men?” Woods asks.

“They’re from The Bronx. They were always picking fights. Anyway, my grandpa wanted to try to get Trikru to join us and fight the Mountain Men, but Trikru bailed on us at the last minute. They have a long history of doing that. Too chicken to actually go through with battle. So we don’t like them too much. But we do have the Men as a common enemy, and if one of ours wants to marry one of the Grounders, just require a fancy gun be given.”

“You’re serious on the gun part?”

“Yes. I have quite a few nice ass pistols in my closet. Now shut up and let me finish. For the last thirty years, people from Skaikru have gone missing. On a routine mission, or literally in between meetings. I’ve heard some stuff about that happening to Trikru, too, but I haven’t talked to them, so I don’t know if it’s true, or how many of them have been taken. But then in ’29, my grandpa was the one to go. No one’s heard from him since.”

“Quite the story.” Woods chimes in, obviously doubting the little history lesson.

“I’m not lying. One of the reasons why I made Bellamy step down was that the Mountain Men would come for him next. They always try to get the leaders. We’ve had a total of nine leaders since the start of Skaikru, and four of ‘em have been taken. Not to mention the 84 regular members of Skaikru. I’ve seen quite a few of them not come back in the last couple years.”

Skaikru had a long history of leaders (or better yet, mob bosses) in its tiny thirty year history. 

First there was her grandpa, who’d been taken in ’27. There’d been her mother, but she’d barely lasted a year. Aurora had never told anyone her actual reason for leaving, but everyone thought it was because of her fling with a member, resulting in Bellamy. That and the uneasiness from the absence of their kidnapped founder. She’d cut most ties with the gang after that, only talking to them occasionally. There was a third, a stand in until '37, who’d just disappeared. A fourth, until ’39, taken by the Mountain Men. A fifth, until ’43, poisoned by her own right hand man. A sixth, until ’48, taken. Then there was Bellamy, who lasted until three years ago, when Octavia had forced him to leave , convincing him that his life and the girl he loved were more important than running a gang.

There were rules to survive this life. You just had to identify them, play them fairly, and hope that everyone else fucked up.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is more of a filler chapter, but we do find some leads...

_ There were rules to survive this life. You just had to identify them, play them fairly, and hope that everyone else fucked up. _

 

Octavia pretty much passes out once she gets home, barely managing to hear Harper’s key turn in the lock.

In the morning, the alarm clock rings, and she heads to work, still partially high from last night’s adrenaline rush.

“Morning.” She grumbles to her coworkers, getting hit in the face with the smell of coffee and eggs.

Monroe shoves a stack of napkins into her arms. “Get going. We’ve got two people calling in sick today; it’ll be a miracle if I don’t have to have a turn in the kitchen.”

Someone’s put a couple of coins in the jukebox in the corner, so she tries to submerge herself in the upbeat tune, glancing around at her section of the diner. Empty. But her turn to seat customers is next, so she’d just have to hope there’d be a big group of people coming in soon.

Like her wish had been answered, the chime on the door rang, and she walked over, face faltering a bit as she saw who it was. Woods, and his three assistants.

She was fine with the one called Monty and the one called Raven, they seemed to be pretty great people. But Murphy, however, was a whole other story. How exactly were you supposed to treat an ex member of your gang who just abandoned you straight in the middle of an assignment? It probably wouldn’t be wise to beat him up then and there in the middle of the diner.

“Hi.” She greets them, not even bothering to plaster on a fake smile. They’d just have to deal with her frown. “Table for four?”

“Yup.” Raven says, giving her a grin.

“Great.”

In a bit she’s got them all situated, waiting on food from the kitchen, when Woods waves her over.

“What can I do for you?”

“We’ve heard about your- demand.” Monty says. “And we’d like to help.”

“Although I’m not going to deep in on this stuff.” Murphy cuts in, shaking his head. “Never again.”

Monty eyes him, obviously annoyed by the interruption. “Anyways, I’d like to suggest the additional help of none other than Jasper Jordan. He’s got a nose like a rat, and is pretty good at all things mystery.”

“Well, he sounds nothing like dimwit over here,” Octavia points to Murphy. “So sure, I guess.”

“Great.” Raven says. “I’m gonna get to blow more stuff up.”

After a while, as the small group turns to leave, Octavia whispers to Murphy. “Don’t think you’re out of owing me.”

“I know I’m not.” The man replies. “I’m just never going to give it to you.”

“And don’t think you’re better than me. Just because you left and joined the police force doesn’t make you better. And Murphy?  We both know you’re going to crack eventually. Unfortunately for you, I know just how to make that happen."

On the walk back to the office it’s mostly quiet, so Monty tries to make small talk. “So, Murphy, what was it you and Octavia were talking about in there?”

“Nothing of interest. Just a threat for if we didn’t find the killer.”

Woods raises an eyebrow, knowing that’s not the reason. He knows Murphy’s history, and he’d give plenty to confirm that Octavia had a bone to pick with the guy. Regardless, he doesn’t press Murphy on the matter. He doesn’t need the guy threatening to beat him up today. Or any day, for that matter. Even if Murphy was just an all bark, no bite kind of guy.

“Maybe we should check the whole gang thing out further.” Monty says, shrugging slightly. “I mean, maybe the whole murder had to do with a grudge? Or someone from another gang?”

“Could be.” Raven says, her ponytail swinging as she nods her head enthusiastically. “But whoever they were, they were really good with this whole murder thing. I mean, there’s no evidence, no fingerprints, no witnesses. I think it was done when the train passed by on the bridge. It’d be really loud, and that would explain why no one heard it.”

“The whole thing creeps me out.” Murphy says. “They’re gone without a trace. There’s absolutely nothing to help us out here. It’s like we’re starting from a dead end, and the only thing we know is that the killer might have been looking for something. Thus explains the ransacked chest of drawers.”

“Kane wants to be thorough with this whole investigation.” Lincoln tells them. “Says Octavia has a perfectly good alibi. But the brother and sister in law, Kane says there’s something that just doesn’t-“

“Sit right in his gut, I know.” Murphy cuts him off. “Nothing ever sits right in the stomach of that man, not even a sandwich.”

“But how often is he right?” Raven says.

“Pretty often.” Monty agrees. “Way too often. The man could tell you who the killer in a movie is just by hearing the summary.”

“He has a nose like a blood hound.” Murphy says. “You could put him in front of a suspect panel, and he’d be able to sniff out the killer.”

Raven turns to the end of the block, pointing her index finger. “Want to take the bus? We just had lunch and I’ve got a stitch in my side.”

“Fine.” Monty says. “I think I’ve got enough coins…” He rifles through his pocket, pulling out a handful of coins for the bus, counting out exact change for the four of them.

They board the bus, each hoping to go faster than time to catch the killer. Clocks were ticking, and people like that, murderers with such skill and expertise, were bound to strike again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's up with Octavia and Murphy? Next chapter is when things really start to get interesting...
> 
> Thanks for reading! Feel free to comment or leave a suggestion. :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brace yourselves.

_ Clocks were ticking, and people like that, murderers with such skill and expertise, were bound to strike again. _

 

Octavia meets Harper while walking home from the diner, seeing the young woman come out of her job at the bank across the street. They walk home, the conversation light, and by listening in you’d never know the overwhelming quantity of secrets the two had locked away.

Octavia unlocks the front door, flicking on the light switch. There’s a faint buzzing noise as the lights power up, quickly bathing the apartment in a soft, yellow tinged glow.

Her eyes fall on an envelope lying on the coffee table. She could have sworn she’d cleaned the table off this morning before she went to work.

“Harper, did you put anything on the table today?” She calls out to her friend, while washing her hands at the kitchen sink.

“No. I’ve been at work since five this morning.” Harper says. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. Just thought I cleaned up this morning. Must’ve forgotten about this.”

Regardless of the mysteriousness, she’s always loved receiving mail. A little childish, but fun regardless.

The envelope opens easily, and the seal still smells like glue. Slightly odd. Why waste the time to paste it shut? Why not lick it?

She opens the paper, which is folded in three panels.

The text is written out in pen, as if the writer had composed it with their non- dominant hand, and tried to make it as undistinguishable as possible. To say the least, it looks like chicken scratch. Practically impossible to read. There are ink stains all over the paper, large enough to perhaps destroy a fingerprint. But she’s not too sure, because she’s never been one for detective work.

_Miss Blake,_ It reads.

_ I know what you’re trying to do. I know what you want. You’re not getting it.  _

_ But I can tell you who the killer is. It’s me. And I know more than you think I know. Travel into gang territory; it is the only way you’ll ever be able to find out who I am.  _

_ Trust me, I am doing you a favor. Your bloodline is to blame. First it was your grandfather, although he was not killed by my hands, but by someone very close to me. Then it was your mother. This was my doing. Trust me, if I’d had it my way I’d have gutted her, perhaps wrenching her fingers off of her hands and mailing them to you individually. If I had more time, she would have been weeping blood. But next, it will be you and your brother, however I do not know who will be the first of the two of you. Perhaps you, so that your brother will tear himself apart in anguish at the thought of not being able to save his only sister. Or perhaps it will be your brother first, so I can watch from a distance as you bottle it up, as your distraught mind begins to waste away and someday explode. _

_ I may be the one you least expect, yet I might be the one you suspect the most. _

_ I send my best. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter, a relationship is tested, with tensions brought to the extremes, and we find out so much more than we thought we knew.
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you think, or if you have any predictions I'd love to hear them! Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unresolved tension? Yes.  
> Feelings? Yes.  
> Heartbreak? Yes.  
> I promise, I'm not trying to do anything drastic with these characters and their relationships.

Her breath gets stuck in her throat for a second, and she almost chokes on her spit, coughing for a few minutes before catching her breath. 

“God, am I gonna have to call the police station again?” She mutters. This was already too much police contact for a regular person, she knew, but it was pretty ironic that a gang leader was phoning the police chief.

She picks up the phone, giving the operator instructions to dial the precinct.

“Is this Woods?” She asks as the receiver on the other end of the line picks up.

“Yes. I’m just about to leave, however. Who is this?”

“Blake.”

“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“Listen. I just got home, and I found some letter on my table that wasn’t here this morning. I’m pretty sure it’s a threat or somethin’.”

“I’ll stop over and have a look, alright?”

“Thank you.”

Now that the conversation is over, all she can do is wait, waving goodbye to Harper as her roommate heads to the bar a few blocks away.

She watches the clock, counting the minutes pass by.

Five, 

eight, 

ten, 

thirteen, 

nineteen, 

twenty seven.

There’s a knock on the door, startling her out of her trance. At least it’s not the doorbell, or she would have fallen off of her chair.

“Woods?” Octavia cracks the door open, peering through.

“In the flesh."

“Good.” She opens the door fully now; she can trust this man, regardless of his job with the police.

“So, where is this mysterious letter you’ve called me about?” Woods asks awkwardly, thinking about the fact that he’s technically off shift and he’s in this woman’s apartment, still working on the case. He's not getting paid to do this.

“Here.” She holds it out to him.

Woods shakes his head. “It’s best if you hold it. You’ve already touched it, and we don’t need more unnecessary fingerprints on it.”

“Sorry.” She stands awkwardly, holding the letter as he reads it, then folding it up and putting it back in the envelope and handing it to Woods, who wraps it in a handkerchief.

“I would suggest having us send a patrol man to the front door.” Woods says.

“What would that do?” She questions. “Whoever this was, they didn’t get in through the door. It was locked. And besides, I’ve killed before. I can handle my self."

“You know, I think you’re scared.” He says. 

Even though she can tell he’s not taunting her, something makes her want to defend herself, to show that she’s more powerful than she looks.

“Even if you were right, what good would that do you?” She crosses her arms, raising her eyebrows.

“I’d know more, Octavia. I could help you. Right now, I know that you’re a scared young woman trapped inside the shell of someone who hides behind a leather jacket. You use violence as an escape. Right now it’s only against others, and you show some form of restraint. 

But what happens when your mind says it’s tired of waiting? What happens to the pent up anger? Does it go to people you love? Does it go towards you?”

“We are not on a first name basis, Woods. And you may think you know me, but you don’t. You, of all people, won’t know what it’s like.” She tries everything in her power to keep herself from punching him in the face.

He feels like he needs to get his point across. To help this woman realize that she isn’t alone, regardless of her pride or her status. To make her realize that there is an actual murderer out there, who seems intent on making their victims suffer, and that Octavia might be next. Octavia Blake is far too young to be discovered with her intestines hanging from a clothesline.

He’s seen that before.

“Do you want a father who turns you into a killer before you’re even a teenager?” He retorts. "Who comes home drunk most nights, and on the nights he’s sober gets you to do his dirty work?

For it to get so bad that you literally count the days until the earliest moment for you to get your high school diploma and sign up for the war? For ’44 and ’45 to be years of your life that you never want to talk about again? 

To come home, finally, and find your mother murdered on the floor in the kitchen, and to this day not know who did it? To wake up every night since, reliving the moment when you were pierced with shrapnel, so painful it felt like someone was slicing you open and carving out your organs? Or reliving the moment your shoes skidded on the puddle of blood on the tiled floor of your own kitchen? 

To hate your father, because you think that maybe if he’d loved you for even a second, you wouldn’t have put yourself directly into the line of fire for every battle? And that you’d have been there to protect your mother, instead of wasting away in a hospital  on the other side of the world for four months so you wouldn’t have to be bed-ridden for the rest of your life?”

But Octavia fights back still, not dropping her armor. It’s taken a lot more than this to ever break her, and her mind is treating this like a challenge, even though she’d rather just collapse on the floor. “Do you want a mother who’d rather rely on the money from screwing people than let Skaikru, the people who valued her most, help her? To worry about bills and work so young, while your brother was at war and declared MIA? 

To release your anger into petty crimes and spend your Friday nights in jail? To never graduate high school, because you know that the only way you’d ever be able to survive is to work three jobs? To work yourself to the point of exhaustion and join a gang instead, to replace two of those jobs? To become their leader, because that’s what everyone wants you to be? To see death? I never asked for any of that.

Sometimes I wish I never was a Blake. I’d never have gotten mixed up in Skaikru. This whole murder thing wouldn’t involve me. Because I don’t even care any more, Woods. I just don’t care.”

They both feel the harsh stings of the other’s words, and they can tell that the other is hurt by just the sheer amount of pain in each other’s voices.

“I’m going to take this to the station.” Woods holds up the letter, still in the cloth, and heads to the door.

Before he closes it, he mutters, “It does get better. It finds a way.”

He didn’t think she’d hear it, but it’s the only thing that plays through her mind that night, over and over and over again like a broken record.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed. Feel free to drop a comment of what you thought of this chapter or the story as a whole so far. Thanks for reading! :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's chapter 11, hope you enjoy!  
> (By the way, I'm pretty terrible with makeout scenes and whatnot, so I apologize in advance.)

_ He didn’t think she’d hear it, but it’s the only thing that plays through her mind that night, over and over and over again like a broken record. _

 

There’s nothing but radio silence from the station for the next week or two. Harper says that it’s a good thing, that maybe they’re working hard on the case. But deep down, Octavia’s concerned. She realized days ago that she cares more than she thought she did; that maybe there was some way to fix everything.

She takes a deep breath, picking up the phone and dialing the station.

“Hello?”

“This is Octavia Blake.” Thank God the phone was picked up on the second ring, one more and she’d have chickened out and hung up.

“Ah, miss Blake. This is Kane. What can I do for you?”

“I was just wondering if you might have found anything new?”

“Actually, yes. I was just about to call you. We think we’ve gotten a lead on the murder weapon.”

“Really?”

“We tracked down every arms dealer in a twenty mile radius. There’s more than you’d think. But we asked then if there’d been any mysterious purchases recently, and one of them said yes.”

“Would you be able to tell me anything more?”

The chief sighs at the other end of the line. “I wish I could, but right now it’s classified information. Strictly procedural. Truth be told, I’m putting my job on the line by telling you anything about progress right now.”

“I understand.” She tells him. It’s better to agree with the cops than press them for more answers. Gets them pissed off. She’d learned that ages ago.

“But I may be able to send a detective over, to, say, press the ‘suspect’ for information about a certain gun shop they were seen at.” Kane says.

“You’d be able to do that?”

“Sure. I’m not specifying which case this is for. And I’m sure the detective would keep his mouth shut.”

“Thank you so much.” Octavia tells him.

“I’ll send him over in around an hour.”

“Sounds great.”

She hangs up the phone. She’s been doing a lot of waiting lately. That, and taking a whole lot of time off of work. She’s lucky she’s been there long enough to have some of the other girls agree to cover her shift, but she’s not sure how much longer she can keep this up.

She reads a magazine, grimacing at the costs for skirts at Macy’s.

Finally the doorbell rings, that horrible buzzing sound that would wake even the deepest sleepers up in a matter of seconds.

“Hi.” She opens the door, knowing who it is. Kane just had to send him, didn’t he?

“Can I, uh, come in?”

“I guess.”

She leads Woods to the couch, taking his coat and hanging it on the back of the armchair.

“I suppose you want information.” Woods says.

“Kane did agree to it. Something about a gun shop?” God, this forced formality was killing her.

“Yes. The owner of the John Jovino Gun Shop said there was a sleazy looking buy a couple of months ago.”

“That’s the one around the corner from the station, right? I go there sometimes. You know they let you buy without a-“

Woods cuts her off, putting a hand up as if to stop her. “I don’t think it’s wise to let a detective know whether or not you have a gun license.”

“Guess not.” She shrugs, taking a seat on the small couch.

“He said there’d been a buyer who’d called one of his employees asking if he could drop off a gun on the corner in the alley. The money’d be put in an envelope after where he could come and collect it.”

“How’d they agree to the sale if they didn’t even know who it was?”

“That’s the weird part. They gave the name of a frequent customer over the phone, supplying all of the correct information. The employee thought nothing of it. But when the owner heard about it he thought it was weird. Friends with the customer, and all. He called the customer, and the guy said it wasn’t him. I went to his house, yesterday. He said he was out of the country for business for the week of the call and the pickup, and showed me the airplane tickets. I called the company he works for, and they confirmed his statement.”

“So now we’re dealing with a killer who’s not afraid of continuity issues.”

“Precisely.”

“Damn.”

They sat side by side on the couch, fidgeting at the emptiness in the room.

Woods couldn’t describe it, but it was like an impulse to kiss Octavia. They had gone through so much, the two of them, and he felt like maybe he’d finally found someone he could connect to, for once in his life.

So he did.

And she didn’t complain, wrapping her arms around his neck, leaning into it.

It felt completely normal to her, save for the fact that here she was, in her living room, making out with a detective.

When it comes to attraction, the world works in mysterious ways.

“How did we even get here?” She whispers, later. “The last time we talked we were yelling at each other, and now you’re right here.  But thank you, for everything.” She turns to face Lincoln on the bed, untangling herself from the blanket. It’s three fifteen in the morning; she’s not even sure if he’s awake. “You helped me more than I thought possible. Maybe- maybe I’m beginning to come to terms with myself. Maybe I’ll be able to change.”

“I’m sorry if what I said hurt you.”

So he is awake, and he just heard every word of that. She feels herself beginning to blush.

“No, you were right. My whole life, I tried to hide behind this mask. Always timid on the inside. I put on a play, for myself, I guess. Because this was the person I wanted to be, and I didn’t just want to be the weak Octavia Blake. You know the saying, right? The warrior doesn’t mourn the dead until the war is over. It’s so hard to let that go. And- maybe we are more alike than I wanted to think."

“I think so.”

“So thanks, Lincoln. I really mean it.” She grins.

“Just doing my job… but I thought you hate detectives.” He says a moment later, smirking.

“Oh, I do. But if you take away the uniform.”

“I don’t wear a uniform.”

“If the badge is on the other side of the room, does that work?”

“That works.”

Lincoln reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

“I was thinking about going into Mountain territory.” She says, out of the blue.

“What do you mean?”

“That letter mentioned gangs. Trikru and the Mountain are obviously implied.”

“It’s not the best idea.”

“Well, we’re not going to get anywhere if I don’t do anything.”

“I thought I was supposed to be the detective.”

“Your badge is on the other side of the room. Right now you’re just Lincoln.”

“You know, if anyone at the station finds out about this, I’m going to get fired.”

“I’m pretty sure everyone wanted this to happen.” She smirks.

“What?!”

“The amount of times that Raven woman waltzes into my diner, orders pancakes and asks about my love life is absolutely ridiculous. Actually, it’s more like, ‘I’ll have the pancakes. And the amount of sexual tension between you and a guy named Woods is getting unbearable.’”

“She actually says that?”

“Yes. And some other stuff that I’d rather not say.”

“She’s never had a filter. But- tell me, why do you care all of a sudden about this investigation?”

“How do you mean?”

“I get it, you had a revelation of some sorts. But what’s making you want to help so badly, and not just leave it to us? Why?”

She sighs. “This killer- they’re threatening so much. I normally wouldn’t care if they only threatened me, but I saw what they did to my mother, and they’ve told me what they can do to my brother. And I love him too much to want him to suffer. You’d have the same reaction if you were in my place.”

“That’s true.” Woods nods.

“Can we- can we just talk about something else?” She asks him, suddenly growing uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure if she could completely open up to Lincoln, at least not yet.

“Of course.” He reached out, holding her hand gently on top of the sheet.

“Anything else. I just want to pretend this whole murder thing never happened. Hell, maybe it’s sappy, but I just want it to be us right now. Completely us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next chapter, two new characters are being introduced, and Lincoln has a secret that may just ruin everything he's worked so hard to achieve.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize again for the sappiness of the last chapter. No more of that, I promise. To make it up to you guys, here is a chapter full of their gang history, and this includes two new characters, as you can probably tell from the tags. Also, I’m starting to use Trigedasleng now, so anything in italics is said in the language. If a word is emphasized it’s also in italics, but the Trigedasleng is mostly full sentences.

_ “Anything else. I just want to pretend this whole murder thing never happened. Hell, maybe it’s sappy, but I just want it to be us right now. Completely us.” _

 

The next few days are uneventful, to say the least. No new leads, no anonymous tips, nothing. Octavia just can’t stop thinking about what happened the other night. God, if she could kiss him right now, she would. Hell, she wouldn’t even care who was watching.

She bursts into the station one morning, running over to Lincoln’s desk.

“The Mountain. Trikru. Let’s go. Now.” She pants.

“Now? I just got to work.”

“It would still count as work. You’re investigating clues in a mysterious letter. Besides, why do you think I’m dressed like this at eight thirty in the morning?”

She’s wearing her gang outfit. Not going into work today.

“Alright. But I’m taking my gun with me. Just in case.”

“Ah. In case we need to stage a coup and shoot our way out.”

“It better not come to that.”

“It won’t. Probably.”

Lincoln takes a second to gather his gun, jacket, and his badge. “Where is this, exactly?”

“You’re dumber than I thought you were.” Octavia sighs. “Trikru is in Brooklyn. They meet in an old warehouse, kind of like us. But, uh, they’re more violent. They got a whole lot to themselves, so no one will hear your screams when they shoot you for looking at ‘em the wrong way.”

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“No. You think this is bad; Skaikru and Trikru are like saints compared to the mountain. Hardly anyone makes it out alive. Those that do; they’re scarred for life. The Mountain has this whole underground thing in the Bronx. It’s like a fortress.” She stops for a moment before continuing. “You sure you want me to tell you this?”

“Of course.”

“Some people, they harvest their blood. Skaikru, Trikru, random people off of the street. No one knows for sure what they’re doing. But they scrub you down when you first get there, so hard that you bleed all over. Then they lock you in a cage until it’s your turn to be tortured. When it is, they chain you upside down, with loads of IVs sticking through your veins. It’s supposed to be quick, though. No one lives very long once the blood starts draining out of their bodies.” She suppresses a shiver. It freaks her out, it truly does. And very few things on this planet freak out Octavia Blake. “Other times, they chain you to a table and drill into your bones. They harvest the marrow. Other times, they torture you and station you in alleys, and you do nothing but kill. That one, I know for sure, is true.”

There had been one time, three years ago, where one of those Reapers had somehow gotten to Manhattan. She’d been on her way to a Skaikru meeting and it had attacked her, ready to rip open her flesh. A man from Skaikru, who she’d somehow never seen before, came across her and the Reaper and gotten his knife out, plunging it into its skull, but that was still one of her recurring nightmares; the Reaper, tearing out the flesh of her neck with his disgusting hands.

“We’re going to talk to the Grounders first.” She tells him.

“You sure?” Lincoln questions.

“You chicken?”

“No, just… Never mind.”

They take the train into Brooklyn, Octavia every now and then increasing her grip on her trusty pocket knife. When they reach the seemingly abandoned building, she knocks on the metal door, a loud hollow sound piercing through their ears.

“ _Who is it?_ ” A gruff voice asks in Trigedasleng, Trikru’s language. It’s been used since the 20’s to cover up secrets from the police and the Mountain. Skaikru knows it too, but somehow the Grounders never really caught on, or just never really cared.

“ _It’s Skaikru’s Heda. Open up, asshole_.” She shouts.

They can hear a sudden commotion going on inside, and soon the metal gate lifts, revealing a large man with a knife.

“Ah, Gustus. Just who I needed to see.”

“ _What can I do for you, Oktevia?_ ” He says her name in disgust.

“ _I just want to talk to Lexa._ ”

“Do you truly think my Heda will want to talk to you?”

“Probably not, but she’s going to need to hear what I have to tell her.”

Gustus lets her and Lincoln through with a grunt, but Octavia can’t help but noticing the odd glare Gustus gives Lincoln.

The corridor after the entrance is pretty much empty, the occasional Grounder stationed near a door. Gustus walks them over to a door protected by three guards, and knocks.

“Come in.”

The door opens, revealing a young woman on the other side of the room. She’s sitting on an intricately carved chair, and Octavia would actually go as far to describe it as a throne. The woman looks at her visitors with a glare, spinning a knife on its point on the arm of the chair.

“What can I do for you?”

“Strictly business.” Octavia puts her hands up, showing that she has no plans to stab the Heda.

“Gustus.” Lexa nods to her bodyguard, ordering him to take Octavia and Lincoln’s weapons.

“Business?” Lexa questions.

“Yes. I just need a few minutes.”

Lexa nods slightly. “On one condition.”

“Of course.”

“ _Get my cousin, this traitor, out of this room._ ”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. How’s Octavia going to react? I’m sorry to torture you like this, but I really like ending on cliffhangers.


	13. Chapter 13

_ “Get my cousin, this traitor, out of this room.” _

 

Octavia’s head whips to the side, staring at Lincoln. She practically has to pick her jaw up off of the floor. So Lincoln was pretending this whole time to know nothing about the thirty year turf war.

Lincoln swivels around, heading for the door. “I’ll be outside.” He whispers.

Once the door is closed again, Lexa speaks.

“You didn’t know? Of course, it would be natural to have such a reaction. I’m sure any Grounder Pounder would.”

Octavia feels her cheeks heat up, clutching her hands in fists at her sides. “If he’s a traitor then he’s certainly no Grounder.”

“Nonsense. You’re a Grounder for life. Anyways, what is this business you have to discuss, Grounder-”

“Don’t call me that.” She cuts Lexa off before the woman can say it again.

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Lexa scoffs. “Heda.”

“Two things. One, my mother was murdered, and a note the killer left said you may have some information about who they are. Second, my people keep disappearing and I need your help.”

“Addressing demand number one; I know nothing. Demand number two; we are in the same boat. The Mountain is picking my people off with the same ease as breathing air. But, I may be able to help you. Perhaps if you go to the Mountain, you’ll find answers about the killer.”

“I’m asking for your aid in a raid against the Mountain. Maybe an interrogation.”

Lexa laughs. “You’re a ruthless leader. Why should I trust you?"

In a flash, Octavia's hidden knife is against Lexa’s throat, but the other Heda doesn’t do much in the line of defense, just continues to grin.

“Why should you trust me? How about why I should trust you?” Octavia questions. “In our history, we’ve had countless plans for defeating the Mountain. We’ve gotten there, and your people have chickened out. Nothing against the mountain has ever worked because your leaders keep screwing us over. We’re desperate here. So before you ask why you should trust me, maybe you should ask how to regain my trust.”

She presses the knife harder into Lexa’s neck, drawing a slight drop of blood. “And I get why Lincoln would abandon your people. You’re all bark and no bite. None whatsoever. You turn and run, with your tails in between your legs. Trikru has made a mockery of itself.”

Lexa stiffens. “I know two things, and the first is that I am not like my predecessors. I keep my promises. And two, I am nothing like the Skairippa, as the Mountain men like to call you. Has a nice ring to it, though, does it now? But I am not the kind of woman who would slaughter a fifth of Trikru.”

“I slaughtered because of your last Heda.” Octavia retaliates, without a hint of emotion in her voice.

“That wasn’t us. It was the Mountain.”

“I don’t believe you."

“But the first and only time I’ve done a blood oath was with your last Heda. She promised the same things you do now. She got us to the door, and then her and her troops fell back. She didn’t want her people to die, but was fine with mine meeting their untimely deaths. So guess what? I snuck in here in the dead of the night, and killed her in her sleep. 

You should thank me, Lexa. You’re Heda now, and you know that your rooms aren’t as protected as you thought.”

“You’re going to get that knife off of my neck right now or I will have Gustus end you.” Lexa hisses.

Octavia obeys, not wanting to start any more of a fight than she already has.

Lexa gets up, beginning to pace with her hands behind her back, and then stopping to gently touch the cut on her neck. “I will send some extra guards to patrol. They’ll report back to you if they hear anything else.”

“How many?”

“I’ll match yours.”

“Two hundred seventeen."

“Weak, aren’t you? But I will have two hundred and seventeen of my people working with yours, and I will accompany. I’ll let you kill Wallace. And I will spare Lincoln’s life. There’s been a kill order on his head ever since the previous Heda.”

“I am not weak. I fight alongside my people. I don’t put myself upon a throne and assert my power. I don’t sit, locked away, with bodyguards hovering around me all the time. Maybe you’re weak. You’re scared.”

“I am not scared. I’ll go alongside my people.”

“There’s got to be a ‘but’ in here somewhere.”

“Clever.” Lexa smirks. "I will not go with you on whatever scouting mission you have planned, but to the final stand I’ll make sure to have Indra meet with you beforehand to talk about battle strategy.”

“Deal.”

“And I’ll see about what I can do to help your case with your mother. I have spies.”

“Thank you."

“Seal with a blood oath.”

“Perfect.” Octavia takes her knife, dragging it across her palm, then doing the same to Lexa’s.

They place their palms together, entwining their fingers.

_ “I, Heda Oktevia kom Skaikru, pledge my loyalty to Trikru, and agree to uphold my end of the bargain decided today by myself and my fellow leaders. If I do not uphold, I pledge my life.” _

_ “I, Heda Leksa kom Trikru, pledge my loyalty to Skaikru, and agree to uphold my end of the bargain decided today by myself and my fellow leaders. If I do not uphold, I pledge my life." _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to end with an interesting event. I hope I achieved that. You guys like this Lexa? I’m not trying to make her mean, just showing how stoic she is. She’ll be nicer. Still writing this so I’m not sure how many more chapters she’ll be in, but I’ll make them good.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since season 5 is going to premiere tonight, I'm posting a chapter today. So excited for the episode! :)

_ “I, Heda Leksa kom Trikru, pledge my loyalty to Skaikru, and agree to uphold my end of the bargain decided today by myself and my fellow leaders. If I do not uphold, I pledge my life." _

 

The agreement had been made. Octavia bandaged her hand, nodded a goodbye, and retrieved her weapons at the door.

“Lexa is your cousin?” She asks Lincoln, still in disbelief.

He puts his hands in the pockets of his trench coat, sighing. “Yes.”

“And you didn’t say anything, and pretended to know nothing about any of this gang stuff?”

“It’s not something I like to staple to my forehead. Especially when she threatens to kill me.”

“Was she always such a bitch?”

Lincoln suppresses a laugh. “We were quite close when we were young, actually. She used to be the one person I could talk to about the troubles I was having with my father. We used to go to Trikru meetings together too, ever since we were ten. 

After the war, it was like she’d changed. All she cared about was trying to be the best at everything. She wanted to be the next Heda, which she previously had no interest in. I later learned that her girlfriend, Costia, had enlisted to be a WAC, and was killed when her airplane was shot down. And I can’t say I blame Lexa. People tend to shut out everyone around them after something like that happens.”

“Guess I can’t blame her either.” Octavia says, shrugging. “That’s- never mind.”

Lincoln looks at his watch. “It’s getting late. We should go to the Mountain tomorrow.”

“You’re right.” She agrees.

They begin to head back to the train station, walking slowly through the streets.

“Lexa agreed to help Skaikru. She’ll match my number of men.”

“That’s good to hear. Maybe you’ll take down the Mountain now. No offense.”

“None taken. I’m just… I guess I’m worried.”

“Why?”

“Last time I tried to make a deal like this one, it played out exactly like this. I was abandoned by your people at the doors. It’s been happening since the twenties. Do you know how much of a fool it made me? It feels like making a deal with the devil. He agrees to your terms, everything seems great, and then it turns out he lied and you’re sentenced to eternal damnation and your soul is sent to suffer for eternity in hell.”

“I’m sorry. It probably has no meaning coming from me, but I’m sorry. On behalf of the entirety of Trikru.”

“Thanks.”

They pass a small flower stall and Octavia smiles, eyeing the bright colors still visible under the setting sun. “My mother used to have a big book about flowers and their meanings. She’d spend hours flipping through it. She used to dream about opening a flower shop.”

“That sounds nice.”

“It was. That was practically the only time we spent together, flipping through that book.”

“Why’s that?”

She sighs. “Our relationship was pretty strained. I’d rather not talk about the start of it, if you don’t mind. But we used to fight a lot, and eventually it just got to every day, out of control, fighting about every single thing possible. I loved her, but at some points I just wanted to catch a break, you know?”

Lincoln nods in agreement.

“Bellamy used to hate coming home and seeing us fighting, so he found me someone looking for a roommate, and helped me move into my apartment.”

“Did things get better after that?”

“Yeah, actually. We didn’t fight as often. I mean, sure, there was still the occasional blow up, but it wasn’t an every day, headache inducing one. Just more of a once a week, migraine inducing argument.”

“There are some people in life who just never got along with their parents. Apparently we’re two of them.” Lincoln tells her, giving a strained smile, and then changes the subject. He does not like talking about his family. Ever.“I know it’s pretty late, but- would you like to get dinner? We don’t have to if you don’t want to, but-“

“I’d like to. I just have to be back before eleven tonight. Skaikru meeting.”

Octavia can tell Lincoln is trying to mask a smile. “There’s a- there’s a diner across the street, do you want to go check it out?”

“As long as it’s not the Ark and its crappy cooking, I’m all for it."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this chapter is a flashback/dream, but I’m giving you guys some of Octavia’s backstory of why she’s become such a ruthless killer and closing in on herself. She also kinda has a slight panic attack in this after the flashback, so if you guys want to skip it you won’t miss anything.

_ “As long as it’s not the Ark and its crappy cooking, I’m all for it." _

 

_ There was the sound of an explosion, shaking the building’s core.  _

_ “What the hell?” She looked up from the book she was reading, walking over to the door and peering into the hallway. There were several loud crashes, coming from the roof. The temperature quickly increased, and one of the beams holding up the ceiling collapsed. _

_ The building was on fire. _

_ “Goddammit!” She yelled. It had to be Trikru, getting revenge for the killing of their Heda. There was no way they were letting her or the rest of Skaikru go for something as crazy as that. “Everybody out!” She screamed, running through the hallway, pushing people towards the stairs. The wood in the interior of the building was so old, it was only a matter of minutes before the whole thing came crashing down. _

_ Screaming. There was so much screaming, and she prayed no one had caught fire. _

_ She made sure she was the last one off of the floor; she was on the top and checked all of the rooms for injured people. _

_ She ran down the stairs, the smell of burning wood filling her nostrils and making her eyes tear. _

_ The third floor and down were the only floors that she and her guards hadn’t checked yet. She was the Heda though, so it was her job to check the third. She’d go down with the building, if needed, like a captain going down with his ship. _

_ She could see one of her guards pulling the body of a small child out of one of the rooms, picking her up in his arms and running down the stairs with her. _

_ “Get her to her parents, now.” Octavia demanded. “Hurry up!” _

_ She slammed the last door on the third floor open, hearing the crack of a rafter. This was it, the ceilings were beginning to cave in. _

_ “Oh my God, Atom!” She yelled. He was struggling to get his leg out from underneath a rafter. _

_ “Leave me here.” He looked over at her, his eyes filled with nothing but seriousness. _

_ “I’m not leaving you.” She frantically tried to find a grip on the wooden beam. _

_ “Please. Come on, Octavia. Go.” _

_ “It's my job to get everyone out of here alive! I’m getting you out, Atom.” _

_ The two of them frantically tried to lift the rafter, which was quickly catching sparks. Within seconds, it was on fire. _

_ “Oh my God.” She whispered, tears flooding her eyes. _

_ The place was like a tinderbox, quickly going up in flames, filling her vision and singeing her hair and burning her fingertips. _

_ “Octavia, we’re never going to lift this in time.” Atom told her. _

_ “I can’t let you die!” She cried out. _

_ Atom pulled her close, kissing her quickly. _

_ Another beam fell from the ceiling, crashing down by the doorway. _

_ “Let me go, Octavia.” _

_ “Over my dead body.” She told him, still not giving up on lifting that stupid piece of wood from Atom’s foot. _

_ “Octavia-“ _

_ “What is it?” _

_ “Just- kill me.” _

_ “What?!” _

_ “Just end it. I’m going to die anyways, I’d rather not be burned to death.” _

_ “I can’t.” _

_ “Please. You’re trying to help me, and this will help. Octavia, I’m begging you.” _

_ Through the clouds of smoke in the room she could see tears in his eyes. _

_ “Okay.” _

_ She pulled her small knife from her back pocket. Atom closed his eyes. _

_ “It's going to be okay.” She told him. "You're going to be okay." _

_ With that, she plunged the knife into his jugular, watching as blood spilled out from his neck, covering her fingers. _

_ There was a guttural cry from her mouth, and she felt like she just couldn’t move, couldn’t get up off the burning floor. _

_ “Octavia!” She heard screams from outside the door. Her guards. _

_ No. _

_ No. _

_ No. _

_ “Oh my God.” She shrieked. _

_ If she had just pleaded with Atom for a second longer, they would have been found, he would have been saved. _

_ She’d killed him but they would have been saved. _

_ They would have been saved. _

_ The tears were unbearable, flooding her lungs and choking her- _

She wakes up, coughing. She’s shaking.

She stumbles out of the tiny bedroom to the door next to hers, practically falling into Harper’s room.

“Octavia! What the heck?” Her roommate jumps up in bed.

“Nightmare.” She wheezes.

“Come here.”

She sits down on the bed, falling into Harper’s arms.

“I- I need to tell someone.”

“Okay. But take it slow.” Her friend pulls her into an embrace, trying to calm her before she completely loses it.

“There was a boy.” Octavia says, taking a deep breath. “When I was sixteen. Couple years older than me, joined Skaikru when Bell was still in charge. Hell, I didn’t even know he existed.”

“I don’t think I know him.” Harper says.

“You probably wouldn’t.” Octavia continues. “The night I met him I was walking to a Skaikru meeting. It was dark, naturally, around ten forty at night. I turned a corner, a couple blocks away from our meeting place. You know that alley across the street from the bagel place, right?”

“Yeah. Gives me the creeps.”

“Me too. I was walking past it, slightly faster than how fast I was going the rest of the way. I didn’t see it, but there was a Reaper hiding. He- he grabbed me and tried to kill me. I don’t know how he got there, but I couldn’t fight him off. He was too strong, and I couldn’t get my knife out. He was trying to choke me to death, and I remember his nails were digging into my skin. 

It was the scariest thing- He was a real person, with feelings, and he’d had a childhood and a family, but there he was just foaming at the mouth and his eyes were red, and I knew all he wanted was for me to die so he could rip out my flesh. And in the moment, I just wanted to go quickly, to pass out before he started ripping me apart. But for some reason, it was taking too long. It was like time was slowing down and I remember just wondering, why won’t I go? What did I do in my life that was so terrible I should be awarded a slow and incredibly painful death?”

She chokes out with a sob. “I must have blacked out for a couple of seconds, because then I remember someone shouting, and the Reaper stopped choking me, and there was a knife through his head. 

And there was the boy, helping me up. I remember he helped me to his place because it was around the corner, and then he helped me clean up. And I just remember being so grateful, because he didn’t treat the cuts like something I should be proud of, you know, battle scars and all, like Skaikru normal does, but he was actually worried for me and wanted to make sure I was okay. I- I felt like I didn’t have to put on a fake face and pretend I was fine.

We became fast friends, and within a few months he was my boyfriend. Oh god, Bellamy hated him. I mean, my brother hated anyone he thought I would like. Know what I mean?” She laughs slightly, recalling the memories. “Everything was great. Maybe a year and a half later, there was an explosion at the dock. The safe house caught fire, and it spread quickly. We were so stupid for not replacing the wood with concrete or something.

I was checking the rooms, trying to get everyone out.”

She stopped for a second. This memory was kind of fuzzy when she wasn’t dreaming about it; her brain was trying to forget about it.

“I checked the last room on the floor, and there he was, his leg pinned under a piece of the ceiling that had fallen.

I tried, I really tried to save him.

The room went on fire pretty quickly after that. He told me that there was no way I’d get him out in time. So- so he asked me to kill him. I thought he was stupid- I’d be able to get him out in time, right? But he insisted. Told me to get it over with so he wouldn’t have to burn to death.

So I did. He bled to death right next to me, but at least it was quick.

And it was only a few seconds later, when one of my guards came around the corner.

If only I had waited a few more seconds, I wouldn’t have had to kill him. He would have still been alive. He would still be alive.”

“I’m sorry.” Says Harper. “That’s terrible.”

“I killed so many people after that. So many of the Grounders are dead because of me. I can’t even remember all the people that I murdered. I’m a cold blooded killer. I’m terrified, though. It feels like- like I’m starting to forget him. I don’t want to, but part of me feels like I should let him go.”

“You don’t have to let him go.” Harper tells her.

“I don’t think that I want to hold onto him anymore.” Octavia whispers, cupping her head in her hands. “I think- I think I’m in love with Woods.”

It feels good to get all of that off her chest, although she can see Harper is clearly taken aback by the fact that her friend has the hots for a detective who works for the police force.

“Does he know about any of this?” Harper whispers.

“No. I mean, maybe he thinks I like him. I don’t know.” Octavia begins to get up from the bed, wiping tears from her cheeks. “Sorry to bother you. I’m going to go back to sleep.”

“No problem. And good luck.”

If she had waited, he wouldn’t have died. If he hadn’t died, she wouldn’t have turned into a ruthless killer. And if she hadn’t turned into a killer, none of this would have ever happened.

The beginnings of an ever present butterfly affect always seemed to trace back to her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading! Feel free to leave a comment!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s the thing. I might not be updating this story for the next month and a half or so. I have a crap ton of tests and finals in which studying requires my utmost attention, so I won’t have much time to write. That, and I’ve been having some writer’s block, which is why more recent chapters haven’t been as well written as those in the beginning.   
> I’ll post another chapter tomorrow, but the updates might not resume until late June/early July. In the meantime, I have a story that’s a couple chapters fully completed, so look out for that in the next couple of weeks.  
> I’m really sorry. :(

_ The beginnings of an ever present butterfly affect always seemed to trace back to her. _

 

In the morning, she’s absolutely exhausted. This is what, the third night in a row she’s stayed up until three in the morning?

She sighs, remembering Skaikru’s next meeting is tomorrow.

She dresses quickly, and decides to make breakfast for Harper before she leaves. The woman’s day off is today, and Octavia feels guilty for keeping her up that late last night.

The mid May air practically chokes her as she walks outside, the heat quickly becoming somewhat unbearable. She ties her hair up with a ribbon she finds in the pocket of her jeans, relieved when it allows a slight breeze to tickle the back of her neck.

She is beginning to hate the walk to the police station. It’s a long walk, starting from Grand Street and ending by Centre. She finally arrives, jogging up the steps, and crashes straight into none other than Woods.

“Hi.” She says, as he quickly catches her before she can fall off the stairs.

“I was just going outside to wait for you.” He tells her. “The Mountain today, right?”

“Yep.”

“It’s a good thing I left my coat upstairs. Today’s a lot warmer than yesterday.”

“You can say that again.”

“How’d the Skaikru meeting go?

She shrugs. “Pretty good. The usual. I mean, probably not what I should be saying to a man who works at the police station, but it went pretty good.”

Woods sighs, putting his hands in his pockets. “That’s good.”

“There’d better be no more surprises from you today.” Octavia accuses.

“Believe me, there’s nothing more. And I’m sorry for keeping that from you. I just thought it would make you freak out.”

“I mean, I probably would have. At this point, though, I don’t think anything is going to freak me out any more.”

They end up boarding the train after several minutes of walking. Neither one of them can tell what the other one is thinking, but the ride proceeds in silence, neither one wanting to admit to the other that they are frightened. Frightened of what they are going to find, and frightened of what could happen.

After an hour, they leave the train, both able to see the small building in the distance, concealing an entire underground fortress.

“We’re gonna have to bust in.” Octavia tells Lincoln, as they cross a desolate street, both stepping over a small trickle of water coming from a fire hydrant up the block. “I’d rather break my own hand then have them take my weapons.”

“How are we going to do that?”

“There’s a back entrance. I don’t know what they use it for, but it’s actually not heavily guarded. If we can pry the door open, all we’d have to do is kill a few guards. You’re up for that, right?”

Lincoln hesitates for a second before replying. “Sure.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic.” Octavia accuses.

“I- I’d rather have this trip end in zero casualties.”

“How about I do the killing.”

“Alright.”

“Here’s the door.” Octavia points to a rusted metal door right in front of them. They’d walked quickly, making it there with time to spare. “You think you can get it open?”

“Probably.” Lincoln takes off his suit jacket, handing it to Octavia.

It’s actually easier to open than it looks. He suspects that it’s gotten flimsy from so many years of rusting. It takes him only a couple of minutes, trying to be careful and not cut his hands- he doesn’t need tetanus- but he gets it open.

Octavia motions for him to wait a few moments before they pass through the doorway- they don’t need to be cornered in an unfamiliar hallway by guards who’s weapons are three times as deadly as the two of theirs.

A few minutes pass, judging by the ticking of the second hand on Lincoln’s watch.

“Let’s go.” She tells him. “I don’t think there’s any risk now.”

Regardless of the limited risk, she pulls a knife out of her waistband, and Lincoln takes his handgun out of his jacket pocket, clicking the safety off.

“I got a couple more bullets if you want ‘em.” Octavia grins, pointing to the pocket of her jeans. “Just say when.”

The hallway is pretty dark, both of them wishing they thought to bring a flashlight. The floors are solid metal, Octavia can tell, by the way that her boots hit the floor with a hollow echo.

“Left or right?” Lincoln asks her. “Take your pick.”

“Left.”

They both turn, seeing small safety lights high up on the walls. This does little to provide insight to whether the floors are safe to walk on, but it does provide reassurance that they know when to turn down another hallway or head down a stairwell.

After walking around for a while, they both see an unmarked door, with a small bit of light coming through the crack between it and the floor.

“Let’s try this.” Lincoln tells Octavia, both of them readying their weapons.

Octavia takes a deep breath, hand on the doorknob. She swings it open, fluorescents from inside forcing her to shield her eyes with the back of her hand.

_ What do you guys think is in the room? Cliffhanger, I know. _


	17. Chapter 17

_ She swings it open, fluorescents from inside forcing her to shield her eyes with the back of her hand. _

 

There’s a woman in there, at a desk filled with neatly stacked files. She looks up as the door slams open, hitting against the wall with a loud bang.

“What is this, a Skaikru invasion?” The woman grins, standing up and smoothing down her hair. “I’ve been looking forward to it, although I must say, you could use a few more on your team."

“What do you know about Skaikru?” Octavia growls, hand on the knife at her waist.

“I know plenty. But it’s going to cost you.” The woman taunts, swiftly pulling a gun from its holster and training it on her forehead.

“What do you want, asshat?”

“First, learn to address me properly. It’s Tsing to you. And second, for my first request, tell your partner there to drop his weapons.” She nods toward Woods, who is still covering the doorway.

“Lincoln, drop ‘em.” She tells him.

She can hear plainly as he drops his pistol on the ground, followed by the plunk of a knife. There are two more clinks and Octavia can tell that this man was the right one to put on her team.

“Now I want you to drop yours.” Tsing tells her, gun still trained on the center of her head.

Octavia slowly unbuckles her knife sheath, watching it fall to the floor. She takes the knives out of her boots, the one off of her stomach, and the tiny one hidden just under her armpit.

“Impressive.” Tsing says.

“Am I gonna get ‘em back?” She snarls.

“If you cooperate. Now, first order of business, I tell you what you want to know.”

“Finally.” Lincoln lets out an audible sigh.

“Shut up, big guy.” And then to Octavia, "It wasn’t our idea to take your grandfather captive.” Tsing says.

Octavia's jaw practically drops to the floor, but she hides it. Instead, she scoffs. “Like hell. And it wasn’t my idea to leave here with you dead today.”

“Laugh all you want, but it’s true.” The woman continues. “Wallace was approached one day, by a man who called himself Skaikru. A ‘Gryphus', apparently. Whatever that means. But he told Wallace that he’d hand over the man with the most power, the one with the ability to unite or destroy all of us. You can tell, though, that this was a catch 22 for Wallace. Both accepting or denying the Gryphus’s help would be disastrous for the Mountain. But Wallace agreed, telling this Griffin that he wouldn’t touch Skaikru for the time being.

After that, for a few years, everything went silent. Gryphus went off the grid. Your mother took over, and Wallace was furious. But once your mother left, Gryphus came back, disguising himself by becoming the stand- in.”

“Why’d my mother leave?”

“You don’t know? That’s a shame.” Tsing laughs slightly. "The Gryphus said that if your mother didn’t stand down, he’d kill everyone she loved. Her lover, and your unborn brother. Your mother was weak, so she didn’t put up a fight. But it was a trap, and by stepping down she unknowingly released a new type of terror.

The Gryphus was ruthless. That’s why you never hear about him. No one wants to relive that terror. He murdered your brother’s father. He tore Skaikru apart. 

It got to the point that Wallace was afraid of what would happen to the Mountain if the Gryphus was in control for any longer. So Wallace killed the Gryphus. The Gryphus’s family was outraged, but there was nothing they could do about it, so they swore revenge on both the Mountain and Skaikru. Skaikru was so weak after the Gryphus, though, that they practically fell apart.”

“How do you know all of this?” Octavia was clenching her hand repeatedly into a fist, feeling her nails stab her palm.

Tsing sighs. “I was there. God, your grandfather promised me I’d be his second in command. But once he left, everything fell apart. I tried to fight against the Gryphus once, but he did this to me.”

Tsing pulls up the hem of her shirt, revealing a dark scar up the length of her abdomen.

“Gryphus’s form of punishment. He almost gutted us. But Wallace found me, and he and his son promised I’d have all the power I wanted. So I said screw Skaikru, and here I am.”

“Do you have any idea who you are?” Octavia asks furiously. “You’re a traitor. Leaving Skaikru for our enemy. It would be one thing if you just wanted out, but to join the enemy? You know what the consequence for that would be. Hell, I could chop a couple of fingers off of you first, just to prove my point.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Tsing comes closer with the gun, now pressing it straight up to the center of Octavia’s forehead.

Woods is seemingly forgotten as the two women spit insults at each other, their actions seemingly belonging more to rabid animals than people.

“You’re people are too weak, Tsing. You couldn’t hurt a fly.

He acts quickly, grabbing the gun and pulling it up, so it goes off right above Octavia’s head. He goes to wrestle it out of Tsing’s hand while the older woman screams that she should have killed Blake sooner.

The woman hits a button on the wall, prompting a loud siren and flashing lights to start.

“They’re coming.” She laughs. “Reinforcements. They’ll squash you to the floor like a bug."

Woods almost manages to get the gun out of Tsing’s grasp, but hears a deafening bang go through the room, and he fights the instincts for his hands to go over his ears as the shot echoes around the four walls.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitely trying to keep all things 1950’s as historically accurate as possible, as with some of the locations in this story, but I’m not too knowledgeable on medical technology from the 50’s. Feel free to leave a comment if there’s anything you notice that needs fixing.

The room is silent all of a sudden, but then another bullet rips through the air, and he sees Tsing fall to the floor, gun in her hand and bullet though her brain. There’s blood all over the metal floor, quickly flowing towards his shoes as the woman bleeds out, eyes open and unseeing.

“Little help here, Lincoln.” Octavia groans, clenching her jaw.

Woods spins around, seeing her lying on the floor, clutching her stomach. She’s obviously in pain; her face is as pale as a sheet.

“Just get me out of here. I’ll be fine. I’ve handled worse in my life.” She scoffs. But it hurts, like someone is stabbing their knife through her over and over again.

He knows she wants to just get the hell out of there, but he knows that the location of the shot isn’t a good one. It might be fatal, it could have pierced through several major organs; she could be bleeding internally; in a few minutes, or even hours, there might be no saving her.

Woods picks her up in one swift motion, cradling her while trying to run through the hallways of the Mountain. There were guards coming; he could hear their footsteps. “I hate to break it to you, Octavia, but you’re the leader of Skaikru, which means I have to do everything in my power to keep you alive.” He tells her.

“I’m telling you, I’m fine. Put me down.” She manages, before going limp in his arms

She wakes up in a hospital bed, her side burning and her head aching She can feel the throbbing of her temple, matching her heartbeat as it shows up on the monitor. She turns her head, seeing Lincoln sitting in a chair by the window.

“Don’t call my brother.” She tells him. “He’s gonna flip out; worry too much. Last thing I need.”

Lincoln moves the chair closer to the bed. “You’re awake.”

“They dig the bullet out of me?”

“Yeah. You know, you almost died from the surgery. Lost a lot of blood, they said, and you stopped breathing on the table.”

“How long’ve I been here?”

“About a day. They want to keep you hear until tomorrow, at least. Still in critical condition, I guess.”

She sits up, ignoring the searing pain that seems to travel through every inch of her body. “I’m not staying here. I got stuff to do.”

It feels as if someone is physically digging their finger into her wounds, but she tries to ignore it. Giving in will only make it worse.

“Miss Octavia Blake?” A man’s voice asks from the doorway, as he raps on the frame slightly with his knuckles.

Both she and Lincoln look up. He’s not a doctor, she can tell. He’s a cop. There’d better not be an investigation.

The man at the door is a stern looking cop with a greying mustache, to Lincoln, whom looked very familiar. The man is flanked by several other men, backup, perhaps, and Lincoln can see a nurse peering into the room behind them.

But why did Octavia look so nervous? They were only here to collect a statement about her injuries, and he himself knew how easy it was to say he’d bee in the wrong place at the wrong time. Especially since he’d been so vague with the nurses when he’d brought Octavia in.

“I’m with the criminal justice department.” The man flashed his badge. “And these are my partners.”

Now Lincoln can recall who this man is. He’s exchanges a few words with him here and there, since he’d frequently bring criminal casework to the homicide department.

“What can we do for you, officers?” Lincoln asked. The way they were standing did not indicate any hint of warmth. Just the opposite.

“I assume you already know, Woods.” The man turned his gaze back to Octavia, prompting his backup to move closer to the bed.

“Octavia Blake, you’re under arrest for the murders of Jacopo Sinclair and a David Miller.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I can tell you that at the beginning of this chapter I did not plan on this happening. This story is going in every single direction, isn't it? Feel free to leave a comment or suggestion!
> 
>  
> 
> Also, not sure how regular updates are going to be from now on. I know I keep mentioning this practically every time I update, but my life is very hectic right now, so I'll try to keep updating, and I do have a whole bunch of pre written one shots I'll get to posting.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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